After the Magic
by Brockavitch
Summary: Mary can't find love in her family anymore. When a familiar face turns up at her door, she is swept away to Masselthwaite and to the garden once again. Can Mary find the courage to save her family? Or is love not in the cards for her?
1. Chapter 1

((This is set in 1920, almost 12 years since Mary came to Misselthwaite. The C's are mostly based on the book… but parts in the movie will be added in at times.))

It had been raining in London for four weeks now, on and off, making it impossible to enjoy going outside even for a minute. The sky was gray and dreary, sending eerie winds and shadows throughout the cobblestone streets. People were closing their shutters, wrangling their children inside, and scolding the family dog for bringing in the mud.

However, the rain was a blessing for Mary Souwerby. Rain was like God's way of sending his love for her. Instead of pulling the shutters tight, she decided to leave one open so she can watch the water fall from the darkened clouds.

---

It had been almost twelve years since her life had changed dramatically. Mary had gone through so much in such a short period of time. She had almost died with her parents when the flu hit. She had fallen in love with a secret garden. And she had also fallen in love with two young men at the same time.

And yet, as happy as she was at Misselthwaite Manor, Mary ran away from there when she turned fourteen. She remembered it so clearly: there was something about the house that was just so… overwhelming. Dickon and Martha had accompanied her, and with Martha's help, they were all able to buy a small house in London.

Four years later, and Mary had turned eighteen. She had blossomed so beautifully since she arrived at Misselthwaite Manor. Her blonde hair was naturally curled into ringlets that lay neatly against the center of her back. Her skin was not as pale as before. Yes, Mary was fair-skinned still, but there was color and life that had taken the place of her once-spoiled and melancholy nature. Dickon had grown up, too. He was a workingman of twenty. There was a riding school nearby, and because of Dickon's love of animals, he decided to become a trainer there. His dirty, boyish appearance from before had shaped up nicely into a strong and handsome gentleman.

Dickon confessed his love to her one day when they were outside in their own small garden. He proposed to her five months later, and they were married off in a month. Mary found out she was pregnant when they came back from their honeymoon, thus the beginning of a beautiful family.

However, things would turn out to be not as wonderful as they seemed. Martha fell ill right before the baby was born. She died that very night, of an unknown sickness. Dickon fell into a state of depression, but bounced right back when little Nathaniel Souwerby was born almost two weeks later. However, Martha's death had ripped a piece of his generous heart out, and Mary started seeing Dickon less and less, as he took his sadness out on working.

---

The rain had settled a little bit now, and Mary sat, watching the people pass in their automobiles and underneath their umbrellas. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and Mary twisted it around her finger as she watched the rain.

"Mummy, where is Father?"

Mary turned around at the sound of her son speaking to her. She smiled and held out her arms to her three-year-old son, who gladly ran into them. Nathaniel Archibald Souwerby looked exactly like his father in every way, except, however, for his eyes. Instead of those beautiful brown eyes Dickon possessed, Nathaniel's eyes were blue, like his mother's, and like her cousin Colin.

However, thoughts of Colin Craven were pushed out of her mind since she left Misselthwaite. She couldn't even remember what he looked like. Her family was her life now.

"Darling, he'll be home soon. He's working," Mary said soothingly, smoothing out her son's messy dark brown hair.

He was staring out the window, with a confused look on his face. "But it's raining," he stated matter-of-factly.

Mary sighed and turned him around to face her. "Yes, but he doesn't want the horses to get wet. You don't want them to get sick now, do you?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "No, I suppose not."

Mary tapped his soft little nose. "As soon as he is done putting the horses back in their homes, he will come home."

"Promise?" Nathaniel asked.

Mary didn't answer. Instead, she just smiled and placed him back on the parlor floor. "Run along now. I'm fixing supper in an hour, so don't go outside right now."

Nathaniel ran off, his little black shoes tapping on the wooden floor. Mary loved her son with all of her heart, but he needed his father there, too. Mary remembered what it was like to be raised without parents, and if Martha had not have been there for her, Mary was quite sure she would still be lurking in her room at the manor.

Martha, however, was dead now. Mary continued to watch the rain, resting her chin on her propped up hand. If anything should happen to Mary, she was afraid Nathaniel would turn out the same way she had started off: destitute and depressed.

---

Mary had awoken to a large, warm hand pushing her braid over her shoulder. She felt lips touch the nape of her neck softly, and she turned around hastily. Dickon looked just about as dirty as he had when he was a boy. Mary beamed and fell into his outstretched arms.

"Oh, Dickon. Nathaniel and I were so worried," she said into his chest.

Dickon's hand stoked her back. "It's alright, Mary. The horses needed to come back from the pasture," he explained.

Mary pulled back from his embrace and looked him square in the eye. "Nathaniel has been waiting for you since early this morning. Why are you always away like this? Neither of us likes it."

Dickon frowned. "I am always working, Mary. I have to make money to feed this family, you know. Can I do that by just staying here all day? You should be grateful you're here all day."

Mary stepped back. "Darling, I only wanted you to know that Nathaniel needs you. He wanted to go ride the horses today, and you left before he could even wake up. Before _I_ could even wake up."

The running and repetitive "Father" coming from Nathaniel interrupted their argument. Dickon looked at Mary for a second longer before he pasted on a smile and picked up his son.

"I wanted to ride the horses, Father," Nathaniel pouted, folding his arms stubbornly.

Dickon carried him up the stairs. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel. Next time, I promise. Let's go and read a story or two before supper."

Mary stared at the empty staircase in disbelief. "What nerve!" she exclaimed, walking into the kitchen and pulling out a couple pots. Dickon had been gone all day, and the first thing he did when he came back was argue.

There wasn't much left in the pantry to make, but with a little rummaging, she came up with a bunch of vegetables and a half a chicken in the ice box.

---

The rain had gradually worsened, and rolling thunder could be heard in the distance. The thunder was ironic in a way, for Mary was sharing the same kind of increasing anger. A couple of tears slid down her soft cheek, landing in the stew that was now on the stove heating up. More tears came, and they only kept forming with every thought of her husband and son.

Suddenly, a knock on the door had startled her from her thoughts. She sniffed, quickly wiped the tears from her face, and walked towards the door. "I will answer it," she called out to her family, knowing they probably were not going to leap up voluntarily to answer it, anyways.

"Yes, can I help you?" she asked, when she opened the door to a tall man in a brown raincoat. His hair was soaked and dark blonde, and a little facial hair was forming a stubble of a goatee.

"Mary? Mary Lennox?" he asked, the rain pouring down on him.

She shook her head. "No sir, it's Souwerby now. Can I help you?" she repeated, becoming increasingly aware that the stranger could take her away from her home at any given moment without Dickon knowing.

"You don't know me, do you," he stated in slight surprise.

Mary shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't. If you would excuse me, I have supper to attend to."

As she started to shut the door, the man's foot stopped it from closing completely. She opened the door back up and waited for him to speak.

"It's Colin," the man stated simply. "Colin Craven."

((That's the end of chapter 1. Please R&R. Chapter 2 will come soon if you guys enjoyed it! ))


	2. Chapter 2

Mary was awoken by a person slowly smoothing her hair. "D-Dickon?" she muttered, her eyes opening slowly. She was lying on the couch, and Dickon was seated on the edge of the cushion by her waist.

"No, Mary. It's Colin. I'm afraid you've fainted after I told you who I was." He paused and drew back his hand. "I'm assuming you remember, then," he stated, although concern danced in his eyes.

Mary opened her mouth to speak but no words would come. Colin. He was back. She studied his features a little more closely. Yes, she saw his little boyish face under that handsome face. His baby fat and sickly pale skin had been chiseled and tanned down to the very last patch of skin. Mary realized she missed him more than anything.

"Oh, Colin," she exclaimed, falling into his arms. "How I've missed you!" It had been too long. All this time that she thought she needed to run away from those memories, and she was wrong all along. It was the memories she needed the most. Now that Dickon was gone all the time, she should have been thinking about the times he _was_ there. And now that she had cut Colin off completely for twelve years, she felt a surge of overwhelming relief that almost made her dizzy.

Colin smiled. How wonderful he looked when he smiled. "I've been thinking about you for a long time now, Mary. I've never had a day when you haven't been on my mind. I just had to find you," he explained into her blonde curls.

Mary pulled back and kissed his cheek. "I wish I could say the same for you, but I'm afraid, against my better judgment, I've tried so hard to forget about Misselthwaite."

Colin frowned. "I haven't come to stay and visit, although I would first like to say congratulations about your marriage to Dickon." Although he smiled, Mary could sense a bit of jealousy from the tone in his voice. "How is he?"

"He is wonderful," she lied. Talking about her problems with her husband would only cause more problems. "We have a three-year-old son, Nathaniel." Mary left out the part that included how her son's eyes reminded her of Colin.

Colin nodded in approval. "That's wonderful, Mary. I'm glad that you are happy. Unfortunately I have some disturbing news." He stood up and walked to the window. "My father is dying. The family doctor will not tell me what the cause of his illness is. Father wanted it to be kept secret from me… he thought the news will alarm me." He looked back at Mary. "You need to come home, Mary. He has asked for you to see him before he dies."

Mary shook her head. "As much as I loved my uncle, I cannot. I have a husband and a son, and…"

Colin interrupted her. "And what, Mary? He is your _uncle_." He ran a hand through his blonde hair. He swallowed, and continued. "He loved you more than he ever loved me." Before Mary could stand to protest, he raised a hand. "Don't argue, it's true. You remember. He never spoke to me when I was sick. He was always asking for you, according to the servants. He loved you like a daughter. You reminded him of my mother, Mary." He looked away to fight off angry tears. "Please," he pleaded.

Mary slowly stood up and walked across the room, then placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face her. "Colin, your father loved you very much. At times when I would try to sneak to your room late at night, I'd stop and watch Uncle walk in with a lantern. I'd go back to my own room, because I knew he wanted to see you. He loves you now. I might have been loved like a daughter, yes, but you…" When he looked away, she moved his face with her hand on his cheek back to her. "You were his son, and nothing could ever take that away from him."

She looked up at the ceiling. "I see Dickon with Nathaniel, and it's such a joy to see them together. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than when my husband looks proudly at our son." She smiled and sighed. "Sometimes I wondered if my father or mother ever looked at me like that. I don't remember…"

She smiled meekly and stepped back. "But that was in the past. I will go, but under one condition." Colin nodded.

"Dickon must not know about this. I know you two have never been close after I ran away. I can tell that you two have fought when I wasn't looking." Colin started to protest. "No, don't try to lie. I know, Colin. I will meet you at the corner right down the street here tonight."

Colin nodded, picking up his coat. "Eleven, then?" he asked, walking towards the door.

Mary opened it for him. "Yes, eleven." They stared at each other a moment, and she stepped towards him into a hug. "Thank you for coming. I can't tell you how much I have missed seeing you." She laughed lightly. "Just think, this will be like our childhood days… sneaking out to see you."

Colin chuckled and stepped back. "I will see you tonight."

---

Supper was silent. No one spoke. Dickon stared at his bowl, and Nathaniel slurped childishly. Mary stretched her arm over to his spoon and shook her head.

"I have to go to work tomorrow," Dickon stated simply, taking a bite of the chicken.

Mary looked at Nathaniel's brightened face. "Will you take Nathaniel this time?"

Dickon shook his head. "I can't. They need me to help tame a new horse that just came in from Manchester."

Nathaniel slammed his spoon down on the table, causing beads of broth to bounce off and land around the room. "Father, please! I'll behave, I promise!"

Mary stared at Dickon in disbelief. "Darling, take him with you. He can stand on the other side of the fence. You promised him… and me… that you'd watch him tomorrow."

Dickon slammed his hands on the table and tossed his spoon down. "Fine. I'll take him." With that, he walked away to the bedroom. Nathaniel jumped up out of his chair and ran around the table, cheering. Mary placed her head in her hands and tried to block out all the commotion.

"Nathaniel, go to your room, please," she said after long last. Nathaniel left, and Mary stood to clear and clean the table.

---

It was 10:50, and Dickon still hadn't come down to talk to Mary or ask her to go to bed, or to make love. When was the last time they spent the night in each other's arms? She couldn't remember. She sat, watching the clock slowly inch towards eleven, a small bag of clothes and necessities in her lap.

She couldn't wait anymore. Mary opened the front door and shut it quietly behind her. Looking back once more, she silently bade goodbye to her family, and hoped that they could manage on their own for a while.

Colin was waiting on the corner underneath the lamppost, just as they had planned. "We must hurry to Misselthwaite. Every minute we waste is another taken away from Father."

Mary nodded, and as quietly as they could, they got into the automobile that awaited for them, and made their way towards Misselthwaite Manor. Although Mary wanted to see her uncle, however, she felt a twinge of regret the whole ride there. Regret for leaving the peaceful life she led behind, and regret for returning the the life she thought she'd left for good.


	3. Chapter 3

((Sorry for the wait, everyone!!! Here it is, Chapter 3… Enjoy!))

There is a feeling one gets when one knows they have made a huge mistake. It's a wrenching and twisting of all the internal organs, making one sick to their stomach. Mary felt that the moment she spotted the lights glowing in the manor ahead of them.

"We're home," Colin muttered, wrapping his black coat tighter around him. The night air had really started to drop in temperatures lately, making it unpleasant to step outside, even for Mary.

The automobile drove up the pebble drive, where three maids were waiting for them. They were dressed in simple gray dresses with white aprons and caps. One was elderly, and the other two were Mary's age.

"Fetch Mrs. Sowerby's things," he ordered one of the girls, who curtsied dutifully and stepped forward.

Mary placed a hand in front of her. "No, it's quite alright," she insisted, lifting the small case she had brought along.

Colin softened as he chuckled. "Don't be silly. We must get to Father's chambers immediately. They will see your bag is safe in your room, darling," Colin pressed. Mary handed the bag to the girl and followed Colin into the manor.

Nothing had been changed. The grand hall was still ominous and old, and the rooms were still chilled and lacking the touch of a woman. Mary frowned disappointingly.

"Is something the matter?" Colin asked, helping her from her coat.

Mary shook her head. "No, not at all."

Colin pressed his hand gently into the small of her back. "Come now, we must immediately see you to your room, and then your uncle would like to have a word with you."

---

"Will this do, madam?" the youngest servant asked, placing Mary's bag gently on the thick blanket on the bed.

Mary nodded blankly, stepping into the bedroom. Dark mahogany furniture, ivory sheets and blanket, and a round table all too familiar; this was her old room.

She turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat. "Are you satisfied with your sleeping arrangements, darling?"

Mary smiled. "Colin, it looks as though it's been untouched since I left. Thank you." She ran a finger lightly over the jewelry box on the dresser. She could still smell the perfume she stole from her aunt's bedroom amidst the air. She smiled, then patted her hand to her sides. "Well. Shall we?"

Colin stepped out of the way to let her pass, then took the lead to Archibald's quarters. The walls of this particular hallway were an earl gray, and very, very dull. Mary was determined that her visit would be a productive one.

They reached the double doors to Uncle's bedroom. Colin stared at the doors intently. "Now," he started after a short pause. "He informed me he is to give you orders, which you will fulfill before he dies. He needs your help, Mary. His heart could barely take the loss of Mother. Your not being here has really made it hard." It sounded as if he breathed, "on all of us," but Mary couldn't be sure.

The doors opened, and he waited as Mary turned away form him and walked inside hesitantly. It was dark in the room. Only a couple lonesome candles provided breaths of light around the walls. She turned towards the bed, and saw him. Her uncle. The crippled man looked even worse than when she left.

"Who's there?" he croaked, as if he hadn't spoken in years.

Mary reached out to him, almost jumping at how cold he was. "It's your neice, Archibald. I'm here."

Archibald opened his eyes and faced her. "Mary? Miss Mary, is that you?" A smile crept up to his face.

Mary wiped away the tears on her face. "Yes, Uncle. It's me." She stifled a laugh as she embraced him. "I cam as soon as I heard. Colin is so worried about you."

Archibald ignored the statement. "Yes, well… I'm very sick, and I need to give you a few instructions for while you're here."

"I hadn't thought of staying that long, Uncle. I'm married and a mother of a son, now. I can't be away from him for too long."

"Mary, please. I need you to do some things for me. Just three tasks. And then you can be on your way. I'll have stationary sent to your quarters to write home."

Mary thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I suppose I'll have to manage."

Archibald laughed weakly. "There's the spirit I know you've had in there. Now. First thing's first. This home is so... ghastly. It cannot due. You and the servants will be turning this place around to make it look homely. It needs a woman's touch."

Mary smiled. Thank the Lord someone agrees. "I can do that, Uncle. What else?"

"I adopted a French girl from one of the orphanages in Paris. She's a mere six years, and I cannot understand a word of what she says. She needs a mother-like figure, because God knows Colin cannot be relied on with such a task as raising children." He paused and inquired, "You do speak French, do you not?"

"Enough, sir. What is her name?"

"Sophie, my dear. I don't know of a last name… perhaps you can figure it out when you meet her. I shall need you to also teach her about being a lady, basic academics, as well as… any other things you might think of."

Mary nodded. "I'll try my best. And the third task?"

Archibald smiled. "Oh yes. This one you will rather enjoy. Before I die, I want to go back into the garden." Mary opened her mouth to speak, but he gripped her hand. "Everything's dead again… no one has been in there ever since the old gardener passed away. I need you to bring it back to life. Can you do that?"

Mary was shocked. To go back into the garden… that'd be like walking into a time machine. How she missed that garden. Her own bit of earth.

Mary kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Uncle. I will get straight to work."

Archibald smiled. "Good. Now run along. Time is of the essence."


End file.
